The White Ship (40) Poem by David McLansky

The White Ship (40)



(40) The Hospice Room


Oh the boredom of a hospice room
The cleaning man with mop and broom
He sprays and mops the settled dust
Both pail and post are stained with rust.

My sleeping bride so peaceful sleeps
At Hypnos’ side five fathoms deep
The God of sleep won’t let her rise
Despite my surface bubbled cries

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 12 April 2013

The Go of sleep won't let her rise. good write. thanks.

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